Unified Field
by HopefulNebula
Summary: (I bet none of you remember this...) Trip and T'Pol explore the consequences of their feelings for one another. A sequel to Truth and Illusion.
1. One

Title: Unified Field

Author: HopefulNebula (HopefulNebula@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG

Summary: Trip and T'Pol explore the consequences of their feelings for one another.  A little story that picks up about a week after "Truth and Illusion"  (That means you should read T&I before this… You've been warned.).  T/T, obviously.

Disclaimer: Sadly, Rick Berman and Brannon Braga own Enterprise.  I own whatever fur my cat sheds on me and this computer.

Spoilers: Minor ones for "The Catwalk" and "Horizon," but they're not crucial to this.  It also helps if you've seen _A Beautiful Mind_, but it's not crucial. (I don't own that, either. My apologies if I get some details wrong; it's been a while since I've seen it.)  Besides that, there's nothing that isn't covered in T&I.

Feedback: At least to let me know you've read this.

~~~~~

            The week had gone by too slowly for Trip.  The worst part wasn't all the repairs and preventive maintenance he'd made to the warp core, or Malcolm carping at him about how the security grid needed another upgrade ("I busted my ass last month giving you the one you have now.  I'm not going to do that again for a while, Mal," had been the response that eventually worked), or even having to extinguish yet another fire in the port injector.  This was the first time all week he had even had a chance to sit down in his office.  No, worse than all that tenfold was the fact that he hadn't been able to see T'Pol for more than a few minutes at once since their meeting in the mess hall, and he had even had to glean those from his few visitations to the Bridge.  At first it had been intentional; he had kept it cool so they could both go slowly and, above all, discreetly.  After all, the High Command (and probably Starfleet as well) would definitely frown upon a romantic relationship between a human and a Vulcan.  But after the first couple of days, he had found himself avoiding her for fear that what had happened that glorious evening was the night's final illusion, the last trick his mind had played on him.  If it hadn't been real—  _No, Trip, he admonished himself, __don't think about  that.  Just talk to her.  What's the worst that can happen?  But he knew the worst.  Or at least he thought he knew._

            He really did need to learn how to meditate; his trepidation was all-encompassing, controlling every decision involving her.  And that way he could really spend some more time in her presence.  That was all he needed to calm down.  She would touch him again and—

            "Commander?  Commander Tucker… Trip!"  Hoshi Sato's voice broke through Trip's thought-forged shield.

            "Yeah, Hoshi?"

            "Did you find the synopsis for tonight's movie?"

            "I've got it right here," Trip replied.  "It sounds good.  I haven't seen it before, though."

            "_A Beautiful Mind is one of my favorites.  You'd love it.  I'm going with Malcolm," she reported._

            "Oh.  So which of you finally asked the other?" Trip inquired, half-jokingly.

            "Neither of us.  I'm going to drag him down there tonight."

            "Good luck!"

            "Thanks.  I'll need it.  Well, I've got to take a shower and find Malcolm before the movie begins, and you know how reclusive he can be.  I'd better get going."

            "See you, Hoshi."  Was it really that late?  He looked at the chronometer on his desk and saw that he had been musing about T'Pol for nearly an hour.  He had been officially off duty as of forty-five minutes prior.

            Well, he _had been wanting to see the movie.  Now would be the best time to transcend—or at least circumvent—his apprehension about his and T'Pol's budding relationship.   She'd be off duty too by now, he reasoned, so he reached over to the comm panel by his door and moved to page her._

~~~~~

            She had barely seen him in nearly a week.  Whenever he had made his way onto the bridge to deliver reports on the status of Engineering or talk to the Captain, he had looked her in a manner that could only be described as uncertain.  That was odd, no doubt; his feelings for her had been so unequivocal only a week ago.  And with each passing instant, she found herself longing even more to simply be in the same room with him.  His presence seemed to be what both cured and caused her emotional turmoil.  She found that she missed his touch, that soft tender coolness that did strange things to her mind and made her entire body tingle.

            She supposed it was better that he had avoided her for the first few days.  She had to sort out what she felt, find a way to catalog her feelings.  And he would have only hindered that effort during that time.  But now—now she knew she wanted to be near him as much as possible.  And he had left her only one option.

            Rising from her meditation pad, she reached for the comm panel and called Trip.

~~~~~

            "T'Pol to Commander Tucker," the comm chirped before Trip had a chance to even find the correct button.

            "Yeah, T'Pol?"

            "It is Tuesday."

            "All day," Trip replied with a wry smile gracing his lips.  "And you know what that means.  It's Movie Night."

            "Are you planning to see the movie?"

            "Yes, I am.  Do—do you want to come with me?  It's a movie you'd like.  All about a mathematician back on Earth a couple of centuries ago."

            "I… was going to ask you the same thing.  We have not been spending much time together lately," she added, dry humor lacing her voice and demeanor.

            "Good.  We've got a lot to talk about."  _One understatement deserves another_, Trip thought.  "How about dinner in my quarters afterwards?"

            "That would be acceptable," T'Pol replied.  "Shall we meet at 1700?"

            "Sounds good.  See you then."  There was a momentary pause, then Trip added, "And T'Pol?  Don't bring work this time, and don't wear your uniform.  Movie Night is supposed to be time off."  He then severed the connection to avoid the retort he knew would be coming and left Engineering for his quarters.  After all, the scent of oil mixed with perspiration and the ravioli he'd spilled on himself at lunch would not be appealing to a human female, let alone a Vulcan one, he mused as he looked down at his soiled uniform and hands.

~~~~~

            T'Pol spent nearly twenty minutes choosing the appropriate garment for such an occasion as Movie Night.  For the first time, she thought of how small her wardrobe must be compared with that of some of the other Enterprise crewmembers.  She had packed for economy at the beginning of the mission and as a result had very few choices now.  She didn't think Trip would mind what she wore; one of the most unequivocal of his feelings was unconditional love.  He had thought she was beautiful from the day she had so brazenly rebuffed his handshake; it didn't matter to him what she wore.

            But inexplicably, it mattered to her.  How human it felt to be standing in her quarters, worrying about clothing and movies.  That her time on a Terran ship had affected her was not up for debate.  The way it had changed her, however…  T'Pol found it distasteful to think of how her life would be before she had met Trip.  She would have been well respected by her Vulcan peers, for certain, as she had been before falling into either love or distaste.  She would be bonded to Koss, who had never paid her any respect and thrived on popular opinion, and living in a region of Vulcan whose climate T'Pol found inhospitable.  She would be, in a way, more distant from her family than she had already made herself.  Yes, she would have been respected and possibly even liked by others, but she would not have been able to look at herself without reproaching herself for not attending to her own needs and feelings.  T'Pol could not live with that thought, for what good was pleasing others if she could not live with her own self?  She wanted to feel alive, if only for a few short years.  And part of that was finding the right attire for this evening.

            Her uniform had already been eliminated as a choice.  There were several very formal Vulcan garments she had worn only a few times during her time as an Enterprise crewmember, but those irritated her skin, and besides, they did not feel right.  Her assorted meditation robes were quite comfortable, but somehow inappropriate for the occasion.  One garment, however, remained: an ankle-length blood-green silken dress with sleeves that extended to her elbows, then flared slightly, exposing her forearms.  The neckline, sleeves and hem were stitched in tiny embroidery with golden thread.  It was far from traditional, but still considered acceptable.  The dress had been her mother's once and was one of her most treasured possessions, even though T'Pol had never worn it herself.  It would do quite nicely.

~~~~~

            The hall was already buzzing with activity when Trip arrived; he quickly scanned the occupied chairs and was slightly dismayed not to see T'Pol filling any of them.  There was Hoshi, who turned to say something to Malcolm, saw Trip, and waved; there were Archer and Nasreen and Annelle.  Even Phlox had shown up.  Everybody, it seemed to Trip, was there except for the one person who mattered.  But he _was_ early.  It wasn't a big deal.  And the popcorn was still warm.  One of the perks of being on a starship while watching a movie, Trip mused, was that the popcorn was always fresh, and the floor not sticky, and he could put just as much dripping butter on top of it as he wanted to.

            Would T'Pol eat popcorn?  He wasn't certain, but didn't want to get her some without asking.  So instead, he waited by the door for her arrival.

            And suddenly, there she was, in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen.  Her eyes seemed even more colorful now.  She looked vibrant in this form-fitting robe and his only thought was how stunning and perpetually wondrous she truly was.

            Her presence in the room had garnered stares from the rest of the people who saw her.  Luckily, T'Pol had been anticipating such a reaction from all the others.  The only reaction that mattered to her was that of Trip.  And where was he?  Certainly not seated, though Archer was there staring at her.  She scanned the room and soon found him standing next to the door, obviously waiting for her.

            The look on his face caused her an inordinate amount of pleasure, and this pleasure surged even more when he said, "T'Pol—you look—I mean—_wow."  __'Wow' indeed, she thought, amusement showing in her eyes despite her attempts to stifle it._

            "I was… unsure as to what would be an appropriate garment for—" she began to concede, but Trip interjected before she could continue.

            "T'Pol, it's perfect.  Movie'll be starting soon.  Do you want popcorn, or should we just sit down?"

            She pondered for a moment, staring down at the large bowl of popcorn in Trip's hands.  Popcorn was now familiar to her; she had eaten it once before and found its texture quite strange.  She would not mind having it again.  "You seem to have enough popcorn for both of us, so we should find seats.  You did say they'd 'fill up fast…'"

            "'Kay.  The best ones are in the middle, right about… Aha!  There are a couple right up there."  He pointed, indicating which seats he meant.  "Shall we sit?" inquired the engineer, effecting a large fake bow.  T'Pol simply maneuvered past the settling crowd to the spot he had pointed out.  Trip followed her and both sat down just as the lights flashed twice, indicating that the movie would start in one minute.

            "Hey," Hoshi said, tapping Trip on the back.  Trip jumped slightly, but recovered as quickly as ever.

            "Evenin', Hoshi," Trip replied, turning back in his seat and grinning at the petite linguist.

            "I'm glad you could come today.  Good evening, Sub-Commander!  I didn't expect to see you here again so soon."

            "The Commander invited me.  He said that this would be a movie that I'd find fascinating."

            "He's right," Hoshi confirmed.  "Especially after what you and Trip went through last week."

            As T'Pol turned to Trip to ask what Hoshi meant by that comment, the lights turned down and the movie started.

~~~~~

            "OK.  So now I know what Hoshi meant about the movie and last week," Trip remarked over a steaming bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

            T'Pol raised an eyebrow, not disputing Trip's comment, but in agreeing with it.  "Indeed.  The problems Nash faced in distinguishing reality from fantasy do parallel yours quite accurately."

            Trip laughed.  "That's one way of saying it.  But what got me the most was that scene when Alicia's trying to convince John that she's real.  That's the really creepy parallel."

            "I saw your reaction during that particular scene," she confessed between forkfuls of her sandwich.  Trip had found it quite amusing that after two years of life on Enterprise, she still cut up her sandwiches and ate the pieces using utensils. "I doubt the maintenance crew will enjoy cleaning up your spilled popcorn."

            "Very funny, T'Pol.  What about the popcorn you dropped when you took it from my bowl?"  This accusation was obviously fake, and Trip had a hard time not grinning.  T'Pol refused to reply.  _He of all people should be aware of the risk of eating with one's hands,_ she mused.  But suddenly Trip changed the subject, or at least steered it back to its former topic.  "Yeah.  The way Alicia put John's hand on her heart and her hand on his, kinda like this—" Trip mimicked his description.  His touch was just as cool and soft as she remembered.  Such sensations she had never experienced before Trip had entered her life.  He was overwhelmingly gentle in all his actions toward her, and this strengthened everything between them.  His breath and hers became one as he unconsciously moved closer to her, never closing his eyes for fear this wasn't real.  Both T'Pol and Trip forgot their food as they were too enrapt by each other's touch to care about anything else.

            And then their lips met.  T'Pol had thought that touching him was the most sensual thing she had ever experienced, but this kiss easily surpassed that.  Her entire body was filling with warm, delicious sensations of arousal and she found herself unwilling to fight them as she reciprocated Trip's kiss, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck in order to become even closer to him.  T'Pol was moaning now, and the very thought that he could provoke such a response in her immediately snapped her back to her normal Vulcan self, or at least as close to normal as she could ever become again.

            "I cannot do this," she said, and abruptly pushed herself back from the table between them.

            Before Trip had mind or identity enough to protest, she was already gone.

~~~~~

            The first thing T'Pol noticed upon entering her quarters was that the 'message waiting' light on her computer was blinking.  Trip had sent her a message.  She took a moment to settle herself upon noticing this and sat, braced to receive what was likely to be a very hard message for her to read so soon.  The communication, however, was quite short.

            '_In the deeps __are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us.  But if you ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them farther over the world's rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether which buoys the rest, which gives goodness its power for good, and evil its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for each other, and for our life together here.  This is given.  It is not learned.'  ~~Annie Dillard_

_            T'Pol, if you need to cool this down for a while or even break it off, that's fine.  Just let me know you're OK.  ~Trip_

            T'Pol re-read the message and closed her eyes.  This would be a long night.  Then, an idea came to her and she hit the button marked "reply."

            _I am all right.  I simply require some time to think.  ~T'Pol_

            Trip's response was nearly instantaneous.

            _OK.  Talk to me whenever you feel up to it.  ~Trip_

            That was it.  No emotional plea for her to return to him, no furious tirade over the comm, no sign of hurt.  He hadn't even followed her.  All there was in his messages was understanding, and that quote.  Trip had known she was afraid of her own primal emotions.  He had understood.  And more importantly, he had cared.

            Meditation would not help her this night.  Not after that kiss.  But sleep could, so T'Pol changed into her nightgown, making sure to hang her dress up carefully.

~~~~~

            He'd had the same dream every night since the incident on the planet.  It had been one of his illusions down there after he had passed out.  Though the details beyond a few meters of him would be quite vague—there would be the suggestion of a door and the shadow of a window, with foggy moonlight streaming in onto him—he would know that he was in the largest, most comfortable bed he had ever been in.  The sheets were always pale blue and velvety.  He would lay on his side, facing T'Pol, as she held him tightly in her arms and locked eyes with his.  And then she would smile.

            Therefore, Trip was hardly surprised when, after several fitful attempts to reach sleep, he arrived in the pale blue bed once more.

            Except this time, T'Pol was gone.

~~~~~

            Every time T'Pol came close to sleeping, parts of the quote Trip had sent her would enter her psyche as unbidden as the feelings she no longer denied she had for him.

            _…Ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them farther…_

_            …Complex and inexplicable caring for each other, and for our life together here…_

_            …You find what our sciences cannot locate or name…_

_            …This is given…_

            Perhaps, she mused, it was time for her to ride her monsters down and find the root of what had been given to her by Trip.  Last time she had tried, she had ended up in Sickbay as the result of a mental violation, the memory of which still came to her in occasional dreams.  This time it would be different, T'Pol decided.  This time… this time she would keep control.  Trip would let her do that.  In two years, he had never hurt her, and he wasn't about to start.  Her decision was already made.

            T'Pol opened her eyes and stood up.

~~~~~

            Trip had awakened immediately after looking through his dreamscape and not seeing T'Pol.  He had never dreamt anything so sad before; he had never even concieved that his subconscious could be so cruel to him.

            The only light in his quarters was sporadic, dim and red.  It took him a full minute of lying blearily in his bed before he realized its importance.  Suddenly, he was fully awake, and bolting to his computer.

            The message read: _Shall we meet at lunch tomorrow? ~T'Pol_

Trip read it and smiled as he typed his reply: _Sure thing.  See you then. Sleep well. ~Trip (or should it be "Tucker?")_

            He fell asleep soon afterward and had the dream again.  This time, T'Pol was there again, wearing that green dress and smiling.

~~~~~

            T'Pol was dreaming.  This was to be expected given the fact that she had forgone her nightly meditation, but these dreams were more vivid than they had ever been since her childhood.  Tolaris had been right about one thing; her dreams were so much more interesting when she went straight to bed.

            This dream was based on a memory, as most of hers were.  Decon's lights were humming around herself and Trip.  There was no gel this time, though, only his pure soft touch, and they were facing each other.  What a glorious sensation it was for T'Pol to touch him.  The only times she had ever felt delight, she realized, were when he was nearby.

            Trip did not speak to T'Pol, nor did she speak to him.  There was no need for words when all she needed to know was clearly shining in his eyes.  And they didn't even kiss in the long dream; simply touching him was enough for now.  She would save her kisses for the waking world.

~~~~~

            The next morning was possibly the longest Trip had ever experienced.  Nothing was happening in Engineering and lunch could not come soon enough.  He ached to know her choice.  He thought T'Pol wanted to stay with him—otherwise she would not have sent him that second message—but he wasn't certain.  Doubts kept surfacing in his mind: what if she just wanted to be friends?  Or not even that?

            So distracted was he that he was jolted out of his seat when the alarm he'd set for lunchtime sounded.  Trip sighed, steeling himself for any eventuality.  It was time to go.

~~~~~

            The mess hall was packed with people shouting to be heard over each other; the only silent one in the room was T'Pol.  She had used her rank to leave for lunch a few minutes earlier than normal just so she could claim the table where she and Trip had touched minds a week earlier.

            And there was Trip, who had just entered the Mess Hall.  Various crewmembers were waving to him and making room for him to join them, but Trip only returned their greetings as he weaved through the lines of hungry people in order to reach T'Pol.

            "Hey, T'Pol," he greeted as soon as he'd sat.  "You hungry?  Or should we talk first?"

            "Neither," she confessed.  "Hold your hand out under the table."

            "Okay," Trip said tremulously as he complied with her instruction.  If this was what he thought it was…

            "Extend two of your fingers."  It was!  Trip exulted as he felt two of T'Pol's figures connect with his own.  A delicious relief swept over Trip, for she loved him still.

~~~~~

Oh, come on.  You don't seriously think this is the end?  I have a second part of this planned too.


	2. Two

Disclaimer, etc. in part 1

I'm sorry this is so late; there are no real excuses except business and laziness.

N.B.: This all takes place well before "The Expanse."  Everything else is fair spoilergame.

The good news: You're reading this.  The bad news: this isn't the end.  Knock yourself out.  I do have a much more solid plan for part 3, though.  And this should only run 3 parts.

~~~~~

"Show me one man who knows his own heart; to him I shall belong." ~Jewel, _Kiss the Flame_

~~~~~

             He watched Trip wind through the mess hall.  Even though he'd offered Trip a seat next to him—and he was sure that it was the only seat left besides the one at T'Pol's table—he simply waved back, told him 'hey,' and then sat directly across from the Vulcan.  That was odd, but certainly nothing too important.  Except that he was jealous.  Why couldn't _he_ have such an easy working relationship with T'Pol?

            And then he looked again.  This was definitely not what one could call a 'working relationship.'  It just plain _hurt_ to see them together like that.  And were they holding hands under the table?  Was he the only one who noticed this?  He found himself unable to look away long enough to find out.  But he'd thought she just might desire _him_.  He certainly harbored feelings toward T'Pol.  Hell, he'd even told Trip about those feelings.  But she'd chosen someone else.  And one question surfaced through the pain he felt:

            What could he do about it?

            He turned his head too quickly away from the two, for they would soon notice him staring.

~~~~~

             The next week passed much more easily for Trip than any of the time prior.  He'd always eat lunch with T'Pol while discussing everything from philosophy to sports.  Trip found himself laughing at much of what T'Pol said.  Who said Vulcans didn't have a sense of humor?  She was smart, witty, interesting, exotic (even after nearly two years of acquaintance), and kind, let alone one of the most beautiful people he'd ever met.  And, for now at least, she was with him.

            Sometimes they'd meet at one person's quarters and eat in privacy, stopping for the occasional kiss or caress.  That was all they wanted for just then.  Or at least what T'Pol wanted.  Trip would certainly not mind going farther than either of them had, but he knew how much it meant to let T'Pol set their pace.  She was going to take it slowly, and so Trip would wait for her.

            And she was opening up to him more than he had ever expected her to be able to do.  It was exhilarating to watch T'Pol transform into someone who, though she still valued logic over all else, was willing to experiment and allow herself to feel for him.  That most of all was why he loved her.  He could stay like this forever and stay chaste; that was what they meant to each other.  His state when he was near T'Pol was beyond bliss; it was peace.  It was like he was home.

~~~~~

            It was dinnertime.  The captain was still in his video conference with Admiral Forrest and probably wouldn't be dismissed anytime soon, so Trip and T'Pol were making the best of their time in the private dining room as they could.

            It had started, as it usually would, with a Vulcan-style kiss, warm fingers on cool, and had soon become more.  They had quickly moved away from the barrier that the table had created between them and were now tightly embracing in one corner of the room, letting their touch and their scents intoxicate one another, kissing in a decidedly Human manner.  T'Pol's right hand cradled the back of Trip's skull and in a moment of abandon, she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek and temple.  Trip suddenly felt as if he were exploding with feeling.  These sensations were, he knew, not only his or hers.  They were theirs.  Trip had felt enough of T'Pol that he knew the unique flavor of her mind and thoughts, but this was much more intimate than any other time he had touched her soul.  Trip cautiously explored her mind, carefully ensuring that he wasn't violating her.  He had learned from T'Pol what Tolaris had done, and didn't want to make her feel like that ever again.

            She was deep and rich and primal, and overwhelmingly strong, yet there was a fragility underneath this strength that Trip had never sensed before now.  He could now know what exactly Vulcans suppressed and meticulously controlled.  And he finally understood why discipline was so crucial to them.  Just a week ago, he had given her the idea that she could let herself feel as much as she did; his gift to her.

            And suddenly, he couldn't do it.  He couldn't let her succumb to the passion and fear and paranoia and chaos that threatened to take her over.

            As Trip pulled breathlessly from their embrace, T'Pol looked liquidly up at him, a silent plea for explanation as to why Trip so suddenly looked terrified.  "We'll talk later," he whispered huskily, almost regretfully.  Just then, the door to the dining room slid open.  Trip and T'Pol were still entwined when Archer stepped into the room, his eyes dazedly flitting from man to woman and back.  So what Malcolm had told him was true after all.  The way she was holding him—almost desperately maintaining her touch and struggling to regulate her breathing—and the way Trip's hands were placed tenderly against T'Pol's neck and the small of her back said all Archer wanted to know.  After taking one final charged glance at the couple, Archer pivoted silently and left.

            "Shit," Trip swore before pulling completely away from T'Pol and jogging away to intercept his friend.

            T'Pol's sense of loss and apprehension shocked her in the first moments she spent alone, but she quickly regained a measure of control as well as the ability to move unaided.

            Just then, the door opened again, and T'Pol's heart irrationally skipped in her belly before she saw the steward enter with dinner.  The tall young man was balancing the large trays of food much more easily than T'Pol was balancing her own burden at that moment.

            "Where are Captain Archer and Commander Tucker?" he inquired.

            "I doubt they will be able to return here to eat," reported T'Pol as she continued fighting her confusion.

            "Oh—I'm sorry…"

            "It is no concern of yours, Mr. Hooyboer.  They were both called away.  Please have two of the dishes delivered to Commander Tucker's quarters and the other to the Captain's.  They may appreciate that when their meeting is finished."

            "Yes, ma'am," the steward said, leaving as quickly as he arrived, if not much more confused and curious.

~~~~~

            Trip caught up with Archer ather soon after leaving the mess hall.  Archer was in the corridor, refusing to make eye contact with Trip.  Soon, they reached his quarters and Trip slid into them just before the door closed.

            "Captain—"

            "How long?" Archer still faced the window, paying no attention to Trip's reflection, and Trip remembered the last conversation they'd had like this.  That one hadn't turned out well either.

            "Not very.  A couple weeks," he replied, trying and failing to stay neutral.

            "Don't give me that.  I saw what happened after that away mission.  Lieutenant Reed's mentioned seeing you two in the mess a couple times. How long?"

            Trip bristled—Archer shouldn't have been snooping anyway, and now he was accusing Trip of lying?

            "Yeah, that mission's when it started.  But it's only the past couple weeks that we've been serious.  Or even allowed ourselves anything real."

            "You'd take advantage of her like that?" Archer's voice was devoid of pity or concern.  It was entirely a jealous accusation, and a feeble one at that.  Trip breathed in an equally feeble attempt at self-control.

            "I'm not taking advantage of her!" he sputtered.  "I'm letting her tell me whatever she wants and we don't do anything else.  We're going as slowly as she needs.  What's the matter, are you jealous that I'm with your girl?  Well, what you saw is the most intimate we've been, and she's sure as hell not your girl.  Get used to it.  And if you—"

            "That's not—I'm not—She—"

            "If you're trying to separate us, you can go straight to hell, Jonathan Archer.  Besides, you've had lots of opportunity to 'take advantage of her like that' yourself.  Not that she'd want that.  I—you—you're a child."

            Archer opened his mouth—in shock or in protest, he didn't know—but Trip turned away from him and quickly left, barely avoiding Crewman Hooyboer.

~~~~~

            Trip was the first person after Crewman Hooyboer to reach T'Pol's quarters.  Furtively he pressed his thumb onto the panel, picked up the containers of food, entered, and waited on her couch.  He didn't have to wait long.  Within five minutes, she joined him.  Without need for needless requests, he began setting out the food.

            "I waited for you in your quarters," she quietly explained.  "Why did you push me away?"  Trip didn't hear the softness in her voice.

            "It's—it's just that your feelings were so much.  You're so—so—God, I can't explain it.  I don't know how you can live like that.  I mean—you've worked so hard to control yourself… the Vulcans, I mean… and I didn't really understand how much you need to do that.  I love you for who you are when you're in control of yourself, T'Pol, and I don't want to see you lose that.  I can't see you like that and still live with myself."  The anger that had filled Trip not long ago was now forgotten.  All there was in that moment was regret for what he was doing to her..  Her control was obviously still shattered, for her eyes glittered noticeably before she was able to hide her expression.

            "Perhaps your emotions have been affecting me," T'Pol conceded.  But she continued: "I shall have to increase the amount of time I spend in meditation."

            "No, honey, I don't think that'll work," Trip whispered.  "I think we'll have to slow this down a bit too."

            If T'Pol had been stunned earlier, she was ten times that now.  She hadn't been taken over by the same exhiliration that had infused her being during her clandestine visit to the San Francisco jazz club so long ago.  She wasn't losing all her control by opening herself to him.  She had simply allowed herself to feel something, and it was too good to let go.  Being able to lower the barriers that took so much energy for her to maintain, just once in a while, couldn't be a bad thing.  Trip provided her with release, and she wasn't going to allow him to leave her like this.

            "Tucker—no."  Her voice was plaintive, but not whining, and Trip saw that she really did need him as much as he needed her.  He provided her with means to feel emotions, and she gave him the strange sort of peace he'd never normally associate with love.

            "I didn't say we had to break it off.  I just think we need to slow down a bit until we're sure this is what we both want.   And besides, if the Captain's any indication, half the crew already knows about us.  We've got to be less public anyway."

            "What did he say?" T'Pol asked, genuinely comforted by his concern for her.

            "He's not very happy about it.  You're aware he's wanted you for a while now?"  T'Pol nodded, images of her most awkward conversations with him flooding her.  "Well, that really pissed me off—hearing him talk about you like he loved you.  And just now—he's pretending that you really were his."  He laughed mockingly.  "I don't think I should have said some of the things I did.  But the way he was talking—" Before he continued insulting his best friend, T'Pol interrupted.

            "What did he say?" she inquired, more pointedly this time.

            "He let it slip that Malcolm had seen us.  I assume that means he's the one who told the captain.  I mean, if he'd known before, we'd know it.  But at least Malcolm's no rumormonger.  If Annelle found out about this, say—"

            "Annelle?"

            "Lieutenant Hess.  She's a great engineer, and one of the nicest people I know, but she repeats everything she hears with extra details."  Trip was visibly calmer now; the crimson hue of anger that had tinted his cheeks moments ago was fading, and he had finally sit down again.  "I'll talk with Malcolm later.  He's said stuff to me before about admiring your body, but I doubt it goes beyond that.  And as for the captain… I'm really not sure what to do with him.  So how about we eat now?"

            T'Pol nodded—a habit she had unwittingly acquired during her time among humans.  "Did you have this sent here?"  Trip asked. Another silent affirmation came from T'Pol, this one in the form of a direct look that conveyed her understanding and intention.  "I bet the steward was a bit curious about why you sent two meals here."

            "I had not anticipated that," T'Pol admitted.  "However, I doubt Crewman Hooyboer's speculation will add anything substantive to the 'rumor factory,'" she added a bit too confidently.

            "Rumor _mill_," corrected Trip.  "And maybe that's true.  But what about the captain and Malcolm?  I mean, if we've been that obvious, God knows how many others know.  What d'you think we should do?"

            "Perhaps we should simply continue as usual with our relationship—" here Trip coughed loudly and intentionally—"or more slowly and discreetly, and answer any challenges as they arise."

            Trip loved seeing her using logic and calm to overcome emotion.  It was why he was doing this.  He fell silent for a moment.

            T'Pol surmised from his evident discomfort that he was wondering exactly how to confront the challenges that had already arisen.  Though she knew little of what Humans generally did in situations such as these, she knew Trip very intimately after having known him for nearly two years, and so was acutely aware of his need for reassurance.  What to say to him, however, was entirely different, so she remained momentarily taciturn.  She was irrationally exhilarated by his more emotional states, the coolness of his body next to hers, the blueness of his eyes, the pale glitter of his hair backlit by the soft lighting and the stars in the window behind him.  T'Pol remembered the first time she had seen his eyes as stars, and a strange calmness overcame her.  His very presence was giving her the peace she had given him only a few weeks ago.

            Meeting his eyes with her own, she reached for his hand and opened her mind.  The familiar warmth of T'Pol's mind enveloped Trip once more, and he visibly relaxed.

            "You really should allow me to teach you to meditate, Tucker; you are still unsettled."

            "T'Pol, how many times have we been over this before?" Trip asked, irritation only mildly affecting his voice.  "I don't really want to spend so much time in a day just sitting around not doing anything."

            "Meditation is not 'not doing anything,' Tucker.  It will aid you in remaining calm before you speak with Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed."

            Trip closed his eyes tightly for a moment, wrinkling the soft skin near his temples.  "OK," he conceded.  "What do I do?"

~~~~~

            Several minutes after they had finished, Trip still felt as if he were floating, though whether from the meditational exercise or from his prolonged physical and mental contact with T'Pol, he didn't know.  Nor did he care, really.  He felt strong and balanced and ready to talk to Malcolm without repeating the same mistakes he'd made with the captain over an hour ago.  He was ready.

            _Then why am I chickening out?_ he asked himself as his thumb hovered over the door chime.  Trip felt a rush of embarrassment at his indecision and pressed the chime before he could decide otherwise.  The seconds passed—_two… three… four…_--and he pressed the chime again.  The response was more immediate this time as Malcolm's voice crackled through the comm panel.

            "Who is it?"

            "Malcolm, it's Trip.  We need to talk," Trip said, hoping the sudden tension in his throat wasn't as audible as it felt.  _So much for 'relaxed…'_

            The door swished open with just a hint of a squeak, and Trip stepped in without being invited.  "Malcolm…"

            "Have you finished the energy use reports on the impulse manifolds?  I need them for my upgrades to the phase cannons," Malcolm interrupted.

            "I have Lieutenant Hess finishing them as we speak.  They'll be on your computer first thing in the morning.  But that's not why I'm here."

            "I know," whispered Lieutenant Reed.  "You saw me watching you and T'Pol in the Mess Hall, didn't you?"

            "Not exactly.  But we both know that you know about us, and we need to talk about that.  Malcolm, it's not my intention to hurt you or anyone through this.  You have to believe that.  But our relationship is by our mutual choice, and it's worth more to me than your disdain.  I'd been wondering why you'd been acting so weird over the past couple of weeks.  I don't want to lose your friendship, but you're the one letting it get in the way."

            "You're the one exhibiting it, though," Malcolm argued just as quietly as Trip.

            "So you'd have preferred it if we'd lied to you and everyone else?"  Malcolm's face paled.  He'd lose this argument if he stayed on the offensive like this, and he felt it so acutely that he didn't have to know.

            "Trip, I can't promise you that things between us will be exactly as they were.  I probably won't sit down with you at meals if it's just you and T'Pol.  And I'll definitely be jealous whenever I see you together.  But I can tell you that I'll be civil with both of you, and I hope we can still be friends, too—we've at least been able to pretend it lately."

            Trip had to concede that point, and his eyes drifted to the floor in front of his shoes.  They'd eaten together with the captain about a week ago and he'd only started noticing changes after the captain left the room for a moment.  He'd been a bit terse at the time, of course, but Trip had expected that from Malcolm.  Trip knew how uncomfortable Malcolm was when cornered into an unwelcome social occasion, after all.

            "Thank you, Malcolm."  That was all Trip had to say.

            "I shouldn't have told the captain about you.  I wanted to when I first saw you, but then I decided against it.  Somehow it just kind of slipped out, though."

            "Malcolm, that's all right," Trip replied.  "We'd have to have told him sometime.  I'm more pissed off at him."

            "I suppose so.  But I still don't feel right about it.  I betrayed you."

            "Damn straight you did.  But I don't blame you for anything that happened.  All I'm saying is—"

            "_All senior staff, report to the Situation Room in fifteen minutes,_" Archer's voice interrupted over the comm system.

            Trip was the first to speak after both were certain that the announcement was finished.  "Shit.  Can we talk later?"

            "Do we have a choice?"

            "Evidently not.  I'll see you in fifteen minutes."


End file.
